To Love and to Serve
by Tuprewm
Summary: Without a home, without a family. That's what she was. No longer. She was taken in by the patron of the reviled. Namira. Over the years of serving her, she has proven her loyalty to the prince. She does not know what will await her when she summons the Mistress of Decay to Tamriel, but she will make the leap. FDBxNamira, F!Slash, Trigger warnings. Please inform me if it's liked.
1. Ch1, Uncommon Taste

Uncommon Taste

 _She stood on a stone platform that floated in a void. The void was filled with smoky tendrils, and occasional glances of seemingly horrific, tentacled creatures, or equally horrific insectile abominations. They made skittering sounds, and soft screeches and chitters. Each would make a sane man flee in terror, but they did not faze her. She was more terrified by the dark woman, sitting on her throne of bones and flesh at the end of the platform. A spider hung above the distant woman, and several insects, spiders, and rats scurried about her feet, sometimes crawling onto her legs and up into her hand._

 _The dark lady's voice filled the void. "The time has come, my pet, for you to fulfill your promise to me. We have discussed this for the past year, yet, while you gave your oath to me, you have not fulfilled it. Why?"_

 _"My lady..." She began, then stopped. She knelt. "I was- Am... Scared." The dark lady was Namira. She knew what Namira could inflict upon her, though she knew the Daedra did appreciate her as a worshipper, and the leader of her cult in Skyrim._

 _The Daedric Prince sighed, in frustration or in sadness she could not tell. "Trygga, you know that you have no need to fear. Any who would judge you pales to me. You are devoted to me, are you not?" She nodded in confirmation. "Then you have nothing to fear. Bring me to Nirn. Summon me, and you shall be rewarded well."_

 _She shifted uncomfortably. Namira's rewards could be very double-edged, but she would accept whatever gifts her deity deemed to bestow upon her. "Yes, my lady."_

"Trygga, wake. Someone has come to the cave, asking for you. She says she was directed by our lady to speak with you." It was the voice of the cults former leader. Eola, who'd stepped down when Namira had requested Trygga herself lead the cult. An honor, but a frightening, terrible responsibility.

Trygga groaned, her eyes cracking open, then shutting themselves from the light. "She was speaking to me, you know."

The scarred woman was glaring at her, she could feel it. "Up, Trygga. Just because you are Her handmaiden doesn't mean you can shirk yor responsibilities."

Trygga sighed, then opened her eyes again. Eola was, technically, her handmaiden now, but she really didn't treat the strong-headed woman as such They were friends, and rank didn't come into play. She smiled wanly at Eola. "I'll get to it then. What was this woman's name? Did she give it?"

Eola nodded. "She said her name was Ilena. She's a dark elf. Do you know of her?" The look on Trygga's face told Eola of the negative, and Eola moved on. "She brought something for you..." Eola handed over a medallion. "She wished to speak with you, but she did say that she had a way to help you with your task."

Trygga nodded, taking the medallion. It had a stinger on it, surrounded by a ring of tentacles. She chuckled softly. It certainly did seem like an amulet that would appeal to her mistress. She stood, walking to the door to her chambers and glancing back at Eola. "Don't stay too long. I'll be coming back, and I don't wish to have you snooping around my things."

She walked into the hall that served as her mistress' Temple. It had a banquet table in the main area, and her altar dominated the Dais. The room was empty, for the time being, so, instead, she walked up to the altar and laid her hand on the metal, her hand becoming sticky with the coagulated blood. She lifted it, then gently cleaned it off on the edge of the altar. She did not really understand why Namira had chosen her. She did not fit her Mistresses requirements for a handmaiden. Pretty, as mortals go, and not normally very inclined to defiling herself. She guessed at what the Dark Lady had in mind for her, but she was not sure. Possibly something along the lines of ruining her prettiness. She didn't honestly care. Physical attractiveness was never something she coveted.

The great doors at the end of the hall opened, and on that queue she turned, gazing down at the lady walking in. "Greetings, and welcome, to the temple of the Mistress of Decay, Namira. What brings you here, worshipper?"

The woman removed her hood. Her face was scarred badly from burns, and some bone was exposed on her skull and cheek. When she spoke, her lips did not obey her well. "Our lady has requested for me to bring this to you." She held out a scroll. "She says that it will help the summoning."

Trygga stepped down from the dais, then walked slowly over to the woman. Her hand was burnt as well, and some form of skin disease was upon it. She placed her hand over the other woman's, gently holding it for a moment. "You are devoted to her?" She asked the other woman.

"Yes. I am. Are you?" The elf gazed levelly at her. There was no hesitance in her gaze or her voice..

Tryhha nodded. "I am. I do not understand some of what she has done, but, I am." She pulled the parchment from the womans hand, then moved to the table, She slid a plate aside that still had a half-eaten meal upon it, shaking her head in annoyance, then opened the scroll. Inside was a lock of hair, and another, smaller scroll, made of flesh.

"You may wish to wait to open the second scroll, until you wish to enter the Scuttling void." The acolyte spoke. Her voice was rough, something she hadn't noticed earlier.

Trygga nodded, rolling up the larger scroll around the items, then placing it into her robe. "I thank you, Ilena." She took the elf's hand, looking into the womans red pools. "Go, and hold yourself true to our lady. You are particularly suited for her, and I feel that she will bless you greatly in the time to come."

The elf nodded. Her face cracked into a small smile, which moved the flesh across her bones, revealing muscle and tendon. Trygga almost shuddered, but kept herself from doing so. It wasn't proper for a handmaiden to express revulsion at revolting things. It went against Namira herself. She smiled in return instead, an honest smile. "We may visit, some other time, with each other."

The scarred woman nodded, then turned and left, returning her hood to its original state, covering her scarring. She pulled gloves and put them on as well, which Trygga did not fail to notice.

Trygga turned around, resting her gaze on her Prince's altar. It honeslty was a magnificent creation. It was tall, and had a perfect place to put her sacrifices. Meat sacrificed to Namira was always sweeter. She walked to the dais, kneeling before stepping foot on the steps, and breathed a soft prayer of thanks to Namira.

"You are welcome, my pet." The smooth, dark voice of Namira surrounded her. It made her shudder, not in revulsion, but enjoyment. It was amazing the effect that her Deity had on her. She stood quickly.

She heard someone walking behind her. "She brought this scroll?" It was Eola, her friend. She nodded, turning around to the spellcaster.

"She did. She said to wait on gleaning what was inside until I wished to look on the Scuttling Void." She quieted in thought, then spoke again. "I think she means when I summon our lady."

Eola nodded in return. "Yes. I doubt our lady would want you there, instead of her being here."

"It still confuses me, her purpose for wanting to be here. She may walk on thi world in her avatar. And, she has no particular desire for conquest. What purpose does she have to want her true form here?" Trygga sat at the table, fiddling with a human fingerbone. "There doesn't seem to be a reason to."

Eola nodded. "It is confusing. The only thing I can think of is that it has something to do with you. She never expressed any desire to do so, not until you came along... And, to be honest, you really aren't handmaiden material. The Elf who just left would be far more to Her liking."

Trygga nodded. "Yes, she would be. I honestly do wonder why she made me her handmaiden. It's... Stressful. Difficult, to be her handmaiden. I didn't even join this cult with the intention of rising in it. It just... Fit me. And, being able to join it without the requirement of scarring myself or intentionally uglifying myself was appreciated."

Eola sighed in disgust. "You're vain, you know that?" The mage shook her head. "Why do you still concern yourself with beauty when you serve Namira, Queen of the Reviled? Beauty doesn't have a place here."

Trygga looked up at Eola. "We have had this conversation before, Eola. You know it is something I battle myself about."

Eola nodded. "I know, it's just bringing up things we have already spoken about. It's just hard for me to understand, at times. I don't know why you are what you are. It's confusing. I get jealous sometimes... You know that."

Trygga smiled mischievously. "So jealous you want to share a bed, too, hmm?"

Eola growled at her. The barb had hit its mark. "You keep denying me."

"Yes. My affection is taken." Her "Affection", as it were, belonged to Namira. It was a strange view of her deity, that she had. She didn't really hope for anything, but she did appreciate her Prince. And, her Prince was where her loyalty lie, even if Namira confused her.

"Yes. I know. But, I still wish you would give it a break, whoever it is." Eola had wanted her for a long time. Honestly, not long after the two had met. She thought it was because of the attractiveness, a trait not normall found, and generally disdained, among the cultists of Namira.

She had fine features, Nordic, and speaking of an air of nobility. Her hair was blonde, long, healthy, and had a wave to it that other women envied. Her eyes shone a clear blue, piercing, yet captivating. Her only feature that could even be considered unattractive was her slim lips, which gave her a serious look to her countenance. Almost a perfect Nord woman. Thus, the confusion about Namira's choosing her.

"It won't. She's very special. And, while you are my friend, I wouldn't make an exception. She's not the sort of person I wish angry at me. Or you, for that matter." Trygga stood. "Now, come. Let's find some food. Would you like a fresh sacrifice, or some older flesh? I don't mind either."

"I would prefer fresh, myself, so that we may give a sacrifice for Namira." Eola fell in step beside her.

"Very well. I think I know of a good place..."

* * *

The priest of Arkay walked along the footpath, an Aedric medallion sitting on his chest, the god of Death's sigil. He was encamped in the forest, and he was interring the body of one of his brethren. The man had died of old age, his heart giving way due to the natural processes of nature. His fellow priests had mourned him, then celebrated his death as a new passing. He was just gathering some herbs before the sunset, so that he could perfume the body before he interred it. He stopped, however, when he heard a rustle and a soft voice from the brush on the side of the road.

"So, priest of the Cycle... What bring you?" A lady stepped out in front of him. A beautiful breton, marred by a scarred eye, the eye itself white and occluded. He shivered at the woman. Something was off about her.

"I am here to interr one of my brethren. And you? Are you a worshipper of Arkay?" His voice wavered only slightly. He prayed to Arkay that it did not show.

The scarred Breton laughed. "No, I do not worship your deity. I worhip someone else. Someone more honest, and... Shall we say, better. Her name is Namira, Lady of Decay. You, my good priest, are a dead man."

He gasped in surprise and fear, then turned to flee, only to be caught by another woman, behind him. This one was beautiful, almost entrancing.

"Do not run, Priest. You should not fear." The words were laced with enchantment, and it lulled his mind to the fear.

* * *

Trygga walked the priest into her Lady's temple. "My Mistress, Namira. I bring you an offering and ask that you judge it's worth." She brought the man to the altar, letting him stand in front of the altar to be judged by Namira.

"I find him fitting, my pet. Place him upon the altar. Worship me with your offering." Her lady was pleased, and it showed in her voice. Arkay and his followers were irksome to the Daedra.

The priest looked at her, still under her enchantment. She bade him to lay upon the altar, then pulled the sacrificial knife from it's place on the altar, on the far edge of the metal platform. She ran her finger over the blade. It was a spider, it's fangs serving as the blade, it's bodt serving as the handle, and it's legs wrapping around the hand to encase the weilder in it. The legs would move to prevent the blade from being dropped until it had sated its thirst. It was disconcerting, the first time she had used it, but since then, she had grown comfortable with the sacrificial instrument.

She plunged the blade into the chest of the priest. The fangs bit down on his heart, she knew, severing it. It would be consumed by her later. For now, she held the blade in the priest as the last of his life left his eyes. Her Prince's voice filled the room with a feminine purr. "You have done well, my Pet. Congratulations, and well done. Feast upon him tonight."

* * *

Many hours later, she sat in her small room. Eola and the others were still feasting. She had joined them, for a time, then excused herself. She wanted to prepare to summon her Prince. She still was confused as to her desire to go to Tamriel, but she did not want to displease her deity. She had promised Namira she would bring her across, and she would. She was vulnerable to her fear, but she had reaffirmed herself with Namira's message and Namira's messenger. She pulled the scroll to her.

Inside the scroll was still the small scroll and the lock of hair. She ran her fingers over the skin. She thought it was human, and considering her patron, it would make sense for it to be. The hair confused her. She'd have to ask Namira about that. She didn't think that her deity would outright tell her, but she wasn't sure.

She kept playing her fingers over the flesh of the scroll, lost in her thoughts, until her door slammed open and the breathless voice of Eola greeted her. "Trygga! We need to go! The temple is under attack!"


	2. Ch2, The Betrayed

The Betrayed

Her temple was under attack, her parishioners were under attack- She could not save them from what was likely assaulting them, so she looked Eola in the eye. "Tell them to flee through the back exit. I'll be gone as well. I'll send for you when I have found a proper place to worship Her. A safe place to worship her."

Eola nodded, then left. Thank goodness her handmaiden always wore her leathers. It would protect her. Trygga raised her hand, fingers intricately dancing with each other. She would need a protection spell. She didn't normallu wear armor, preferring instead to keep to simple, dark robes that hugged her form, along with a dark corset over it. Clothing left her free to cast her spells, and it was easier to clean than armor. Namira's usual abodes did not suit cleanliness very well, and, unlike her brethren, Trygga enjoyed the feeling of being clean.

She gathered the scroll up tying it with a cord from her small study table, then picked up her bag. It was an old backpack, almost too worn to use, but she had trusted it with all of her worldly posessions from the time she was a little girl. She's had to repair it a few times, but, to her, it was still the same sturdy bag she had owned for fifteen years. She opened it, placing the scroll, rations for five days, and her clothes into it. She also added Ilena's medallion, as well as the preserved skull of a rat that she kept on a chain. The skull she had made when she was first accepted into Namira's cult, and it served to remind her who she served. She hadn't worn it since she became the Prince's handmaiden, but she held onto it still.

Other than that, she had little she wished to take with her. Her eye caught on the Book of Daedra that she kept, but she shook her head. She could purchase another one, though she relished having te book with her. She would need to burn her room, though. Too much that could be used to trace who she was, and the invaders most likely didn't know yet who was the Handmaiden, here.

A flame alit her finger,. She swirled it lazily in her palm, then breathed it to life onto her bedlinens. They caught fire instantly, her breath containing a bit of wind magic to hasten the process of the burn. She left the room, closing the iron door behind her, then set off down the corridor the room was in. She had only made it a few steps when she saw one of the intruders upon her home of two years. He was wearing the green-colored armor of a Markarth guard. The city guards had come to crash Namira's den.

He turned to her. "You there! You are a worshipper of Namira! You'll face trial for your crimes against the people of Skyrim!" He brandished his blade at her, his shield high and ready to defend him.

In response to his challenge, she smirked and cooed softly, her illusion magic working upon his mind and easing his tension. "Be calm, young man. This is no reason to war. I am not your enemy. This place is your home." With each word she stepped closer to the man, until she was right next to him. She pulled out a slim knife.

"You see this knife? Is it not so beautiful?" The guard nodded. "How about you take off your helm so you can see it better?"

She left the man in a pool of blood, spilling from his own neck.

She felt no remorse killing him. Her family, her friends were in danger. They were her only familly, and she would slaughter for them. She fed them, she nurtured them, she was the conduit for their deity for them. She would do anything for her family.

The next hall she walked down was empty, which was good. There was a niche in this hallway, with a lever. She pulled the lever up, twisted it, then depressed it.

On her side, a doorway opened from the wall. It was a secret entrance that only she knew about, so that if one of her parishioners had betrayed her, she could flee without needing to worry about them finding her. She was not in the cult of Boethiah, but she did not wish to be betrayed by someone who resented her. She knew she evoked resentment from some of the followers of Namira. Eola had told her as such, and the distrustful glares she got from some confirmed it. She didn't return their resentment, but she was mindful of it. Thus, this entrance.

She stepped through the doorway, pressing a button on the other side, also in a niche in the wall. The door closed, leaving her in darkness. Her hand raised, and a light appeared. It glowed, illuminating a dusty path littered with webbing and husks of dead creatures. It never bothered her, though it was something she would wash herself of, when she had the time/

She walked further down the corridor, occasionally brushing against the webs and having them catch on her clothes. Sometimes she would push aside one of the dead husks with a foot, but that was rare, she stepped carefully, she did not want to trip.

She heard skittering coming from the end of the passage. She wasn't sure what it was, but she did not fear it, either. It made the sound of something that men would revile, thus, her patron most likely would assist her in dealing with it. And, especially if it were one of her patrons creatures, she did not wish to end its life.

She reached the end of the corridor, looking out over a small cavern from the ledge that her corridor ended upon. Across from her corridor was the entrance to another. She was maybe ten feet off of the floor, and below her skittered around Frostbite Spiders, creatures native to Skyrim. She silently prayed to Namira that she would not be harassed by the creatures.

Namira responded by having the spiders move aside for her, their chittering and skittering sounding like music to her ears. She lowered herself to the lip of the cliff edge, grasping it firmly, then turned and dropped down so she was hanging from her hands. It was still a three foot fall, but that wasn't a severe drop. She let go, landing in a crouch.

She wasn't physically active, so the drop felt jarring, but it did not faze her, and she continued on, stopping to give a pat on one of the spiders' heads before she continued on.

Her steps were quiet as she traversed the last distance to get to the outside world, and when she finally reached the end of the narrow tunnel, she sighed in relief to see a small door. She pushed it open, to come out into Skyrim's frigid air. She breathed deeply, her eyes closing as she took in the scent of her homeland. She opened them to look down. She only saw one person below her vantage point on top of the rocky hill, and it was dressed as a Markarth guard. She would have to find a way to move around him. She muttered the spell to conceal herself under her breath, then she stepped quietly away from her position at the cave entrance.

Her spell for invisibility lasted a minute, which was enough to get her away from the man standing outside of her home. She might have to move a bit quickly, but it would be no major difficulty to avoid him.

She cane to a stop in her walking, softly gasping for breath. She was not used to physical activity, and she had to stop for the day. She laid down with her back against one of Markarth Hold's Juniper tres. They were good shade when the sun came up, and they weren't bad at concealing a body at night. She didn't wish to be prey to bandits or thieves.

Before she slept, she bent her head to see if she could contact her Prince. The prayer was simple. _"My Lady, I wish an audience. I thank you."_

It was not long until she was lulled into a trance.

* * *

 _Inside of the void, she stood on the same stone slab. Her Lady was sitting on her throne, still, with the same creatures in the shadowy expanse around her, and the same vermin around her queen. It was a fmiliar sight, for her. She knelt in fron of her deity. "My lady. I trust that you know what happened?"_

 _"Rise, my Handmaiden. Yes, I do know what happened. My creatures infest the area around my former temple. You will find me a new temple, as I know you already desired to do. Eola, your handmaiden, will ensure that you are served as befits one of my Priestesses, I am sending her to you now. It is dangerous for you to be alone in the wilds, my pet, you know this." Her dark lady smiled, then stood from her seat. "I know the dark thoughts in your heart, my pet, and I accept them"_

 _Trygga quirked her brow at the comment, then shrugged it off. She stood. "I do wish to find us a new temple, my Queen. I do not wish for my brethren to be aimless, and I wish to protect them. It may be more difficult, now, for us to have our normal lives, but it is a small price to pay, for me and Eola, at least. The others, I do not know. I pray that some of our others would join us."_

 _Namira smiled. "It is alright, if they do not join you. I understand, some of my followers cannot uproot themselves for my sake alone. The ones I give personal audience to, however... Those, I demand unwavering loyalty from." Her stare was piercing, though Trygga did not feel insecure from it. It was a stare that had been levelled at her before, during her first audience with the Lady of Decay. "I know that you are loyal, Trygga, and I rely on that loyalty to ensure that my followers are not led astray. Oh, yes, and... How did you find my servant, Ilena? She came to me after those burns devastated her. I was the only deity to accept her, and I have given her my favor."_

 _Trygga started to speak, but faltered. "My Lady, I-" She ducked her head. "She is a perfect candidate to be one of your priestesses, my lady."_

 _She did not see the look on her face, but she heard the disapproval in her tone. "Trygga, you are a priestess of mine, Do not shy away from me, nor the questions I ask." There was an air of command to her statement, and Trygga raised her head to retunr her gaze to the woman on the throne._

 _"Forgive me, my Lady. It returned me to the questions I had regarding why you chose me. I still do not understand." Trygga quirked her mouth in annoyance, but continued. "I don't know why I have your favor, my Lady, and I doubt I ever will. I feel as if, beside someone such as her, I would seem... Unseemly, to you."_

 _Namira laughed. A strong laugh, and one she had not heard before. It shocked her. "You honestly think of me as such, my pet? No, I do not have you as my priestess because you are unseemly to the rest of the world. I know this, and, while your countenance I do not approve of, your heart is what I am after. You have more will than many men or mer. I do not wish for that will to be bent against me, and I delight in what you use it for in serving me. I shall not take away your vanity, I am not that cruel. I do, however, require you to protect my worshippers, and guide them along the path I wish for them to take, which you have done admirably. I gave you the title "Handmaiden", for a reason. Ilena was my priestess, yet she defers to you. The title of Handmaiden has more meaning than just that of a priestess, which is why Eola also defers to you."_

 _"I know that you are confused. It will be revealed to you, in time. You are my Handmaiden, and my blessing is upon you. Come, here. Sit on my dais." Namira beckoned to her._

 _Trygga hesitantly stepped forward, then grew in confidence as she continued, finally coming to a stop in front of her queen, taking a seat on the stone dais, holding her hand out for a small spider to crawl onto. She gently stroked the creature with her index finger, and softly cooing to it._

 _Namira smiled, and she felt her deity's smile upon her. "You are kind to my creatures." Her hand gently brushed through Trygga's hair._

 _Trygga, for her part, stiffened at the contact, gasping in surprise. She hadn't expected the touch, and it startled her. "My- My lady?" She stammered out._

 _Her goddess laughed again, another shock. "Oh, Trygga, you are a gem. I think, though, that I should not tax your psyche much longer, so sleep, my pet. Sleep long and deep, and do not let troubles disturb you. You will be watched by one of my pets, tonight, until the morning comes. Eola will find you, then."_

 _Trygga nodded her affirmation. "Yes, my lady. I'll have to delay the summoning of you, though I think that it best if I summon you on your consecrated day."_

 _Namira spoke in agreement. "That would be for the best. Sleep, my Handmaiden."_


	3. Ch3, Of Crossed Daggers

Of Crossed Daggers

Trygga wkoke slowly. She kept her eyes closed, listening to the sounds of the wild around her before sitting up, opening her eyes. In front of her, she saw a large frostbite spider. She smiled. Namira made good on her promises. She stood, stretching, then looked around for any sign of the other Priestess of Namira. She didn't see her anywhere around the hills she was in. She would just have to hope that the other priestess would find her way to her. She needed to be off, so that a sharp-eyed brigand didn't spot her.

She set off, the morning sun not even cresting the hills around her, but lighting the path around enough for her eyes to be able to see. She stepped carefully, she was not on a true path, and she did not want to trip and fall. She hoped that, along her way, she would find a nice, isolated cave that would serve her flocks' needs, though she didn't hold much hope for finding one in the same hold that her last was in. Rebuilding the coven would be a trial, since, in order to find those interested, one had to show that you, yourself, were interested in the practice. That could lead to some messy encounters.

She stopped when she heard a distant call from behind. She turned. It was Eola, her handmaiden. Her face broke out into a small smile, and she began walking to her friend.

"Trygga. It is good to see you." Eola embraced her tightly.

She tensed at the physical contact, her hands coming up almost defensivly to the womans sides, the rest of Eola's words falling on deaf ears. She managed to stammer out a greeting, but that was all.

Eola let her go. "Trygga... Does physical contact unsettle you?" She looked puzzled, and her stance was hesitant.

Trygga nodded, but did not actually speak for a moment. When she did, her voice was hesitant. "Something like that was... Unexpected. I do not know- I cannot react properly. It is not something I am used to." She quirked her mouth in frustration, then shook her head, as if to clear it of some annoying fly. "It surprised me. " She stepped forward and embraced Eola herself, less uncomfortably this time.

When the hug broke, Eola nodded. "I understand. This was the first great stress we have had since you became Her Handmaiden. It shook me. I didn't think what my actions would cause, I was just so relieved to see you."

Trygga nodded. "It is fine. Let us just move onward. Staying for too long in the open is dangerous." She took the priestesses wrist and guided her onwards. "Keep an eye out for locations the would be suitable for our Lady."

They'd travelled for a few hours when they came upon a road. Both she and Eola looked to one another, the unspoken agreement to not travel on it conveyed easily. Their lady would not wish for a place so close to where it could be discovered. They continued on, crossing the road and continuing on their journey to the other side.

"Trygga, I know you wish to find our Lady a new temple, and I commend you for your dedication, but even you cannot continue on nothing to eat. We should find something. It would do our lady no good for her handmaiden to collapse." Eola had stopped, and was gazing at her intensely. "Come on, Trygga. We should hunt for something."

Trygga sighed. She was hungry, but she did not wish to admit it. Her belly grumbled. She looked down, looking at her stomach like it was an alien entity. She wanted this search finished- Needed it finished. The Temple of Namira was her home. She didn't have a home anymore. Not ince she returned from Cyrodill. She nodded, though she did not really wish for it to impede their progress. Namira confused her, but she was devoted to the Prince. "Very well." She finally replied, her shoulders slumped and her tone resigned. "What do you wish to eat?"

Eola shrugged. "I do not particularly care. We could look for a few rabbits or somethnig, but I do not think either of us are good enough hunters to be able to catch one."

Trygga nodded. "You're saying we should find someone to eat? It bothers me, somewhat, but... If we can find a priest of Arkay, or a Vigilant, then I have no honest problem with it." She shrugged. She didn't wish to cause unnecessary death, but she didn't mind removing more of her Prince's enemies.

"I'll keep an eye out, then." Eola beckoned her along, moving further along the way they'd been going.

Trygga followed. There were times that the lines between the two blurred, and she deferred to Eola's lead. Trygga was young, only 19 years of age. Her companion, on the other hand, was in her thirties. There were times she deferred to Eola, and there were times Eola deferred to her. She didn't think Eola deferred to her because of any personal strength, but because of her position in Namira's coven. As she followed Eola, she occasionally bent down to pick flowers from the ground. Some, she would take for pure enjoyment reasons- She had always loved picking flowers, as a little girl- but some she would take for their alchemical properties, such as thistles.

She had been lost in her thoughts when Eola placed a hand on her chest to stop her. She came to reality quickly, glancing where Eola was looking. There looked to be two Vigilants, camped in a small ravine. She and Eola stood at the top of the ravine, where it opened up to the rest of the world. Splattered around the floor were trees, rocks, and shrubbery in haphazard fashion.

"They won't know what we are unless we tell them, so that should give us an advantage." Eola waved a hand at them. "They don't seem particularly on guard. Makes you wonder, hmm?"

"Then, shall we get moving, Eola?" Trygga began walking down the ravine, towards the Vigilants' camp. "Hail. You're Vigilants of Stendarr, by your garb, correct?"

One of the Vigilants' stood, then turned toward her. She was a Breton woman, and her voice was rich and deep. "Yes, we are. Have you come for Stendarr's blessing?"

Trygga sighed. She had to remind herself again that they would tear down her family as soon as they knew what she was. "I am Trygga. No, I do not wish for Stendarr's blessing, and I doubt that he would grant me it." She raised her hand, to display the ring upon it. "I am a disciple of Namira. I doubt you would give it to me, either."

At her words, the Vigilants' hands went to their maces and a shield spell was ready in their off-hands. The other had gotten up, and he had readied his own mace. "You... You pervert the world with your worship! The Daedra do not belong on Nirn, nor do their servants!" The woman charged her, swinging her mace as she went.

Trygga deftly cast a spell to bend light around her, causing her to blink out of vision, then cast another spell from her stealth that charmed the woman's companion. Eola was still staying back and watching, most likely confident in her leaders' ability to handle herself.

The larger man charged hiss smaller companion, shouting incoherently and swinging his mace ineffectually. The Breton woman's face turned grim, and she countered the mans swings with her own mace. Trygga moved silently behind the Vigilant, wrapping an arm swiftly around her neck, her illusion spell dissipating as she did so. The belligerent man stopped at her command, and she placed a dagger against the Vigilant's throat.

"You know, I really did not wish to kill you. I knew you would attack me. I wish, so much, that you and your kind would just leave me and my family alone, but- Alas, you do not. I give you a choice. You, or your companion? My own companion and I are starved."

The Breton woman had stiffened when she had grabbed her, but she did not resist. The blade against her neck showed surely what would happen if she did. "The Daedra care nothing for mortals. You are a fool for serving them. They are abominations, and they should not be allowed to rule over us!"

Trygga laughed in contempt. "Namira may not care as much for me as any other mortal that serves her, but she cares more for me than your Stendarr cares for you. Anyways, you have not answered my question. You, or your companion? I do not normally wish to end life, but, for now, I must."

The Vigilant tensed. "You are honestly asking me to choose between me and my companion?"

Trygga nodded, though the woman could not see her. "I am."

The Vigilant slumped in defeat. "Take me, then, though I know you will kill him as well. We are both doomed anyway."

Trygga released the woman, though not before liberating her of her mace. "Give me some of your bread, and some of your meat. I will not kill you if I have to."

The Vigilant was shocked. "You- What? You're not going to kill us?"

Trygga nodded. "I am not. I do not kill wantonly, just because it suits my purpose. It would not serve Namira, nor would it serve me. You bring honor to yourself by putting the life of your companion before your own, and, for that, I spared you."

"You cannot just be letting me go. It must be a trick! The Daedra are full of such things." The Vigilant narrowed her eyes at Trygga.

"Nay, it is no trick. Now, give me some of your bread and meat, and me and my companion will be off." Trygga shook her head in annoyance, then clasped her hands behind her and straightened herself. "Just do as I ask. I will not harm you."

The Vigilant continued to eye her as she searched through her bags, then finally stepped forward with the food. She placed it on the ground halfway between her own companion and Trygga, then backed away so that she could keep her eye on both.

Trygga stepped forward, picking up the food, then walked backward away from the vigilant. "Your companion will only be under my spell a few more minutes. Make sure he doesn't wander off." She dropped the mace, then turned around, calling behind her one last remark. "Even the worshippers of Daedra can appreciate what family means to one another."

* * *

"So, you let them live, hmm? I didn't honestly think you would." They were up in the more mountainous regions, and Eola was speaking to her from a rock outcrop she was resting upon.

"Yes, I did. You know that I am loath to take life, except for my family." Trygga herself was seated on a tree branch, somewhat below Eola, but close enough for them to converse easily, since Eola wished to be on her pedestal.

"I do know. But, it's not as if them dying would have matted. And, you still would have been taking care of your family. I mean, I would have appreciated being able to have a nice feast, myself." Eola had begun twirling a strand of hair around on her finger, occasionally pulling it out, then returning to twirling.

Trygga took a bite out of the piece of bread that she was eating, chewing and swallowing before she replied. "You've had a feast, yesterday. We don't need more. Besides, human flesh starts to taste foul after a few days straight of eating it."

Eola scoffed. "I've never had that problem. Then again, I enjoy it more than you do. You're more of a cermony type of woman." Eola chuckled to herself, probably at some amusing thought. "You know, you are the strangest damn Nord I have ever seen, right?"

"Comes from growing up in Cyrodill." Trygga shrugged nonchalantly. "Not my choice to grow up there."

Eola hopped offof her stone pedestal, agilely landing on her feet the fifteen odd feet below the rock. "If you're done with your bread, shall we find a decent place to camp?"

Trygga shrugged, up in her tree. "Why not here? The outcropping is perfect for it. We're safe from any predators with a fire. Honestly, it won't be an issue."

"Sure. I don't care where we are, so long as it's safe and not too uncomfortable. I don't suppose you packed a blanket in your bag?" Eola moved to under the rock outcrop, leaning agiast the back of it.

"No, I don't, but..." Trygga opened her bag, pulling a robe out of it and tossing it at her handmaiden. "Take that. It should help you keep warm." She set her bag down to use as a pillow, then laid down and closed her eyes. She wasn't truly very tired, but she would sleep soon.

"Thank you, Trygga. Do tell if our Lady gives you any special insights." Eola rustled about some, Trygga wasn't sure what she was doing, then she settled down.

As the sleep washed over her, her spirit pulled its tethers away from her body, and her deity called her.

* * *

 _"My pet, you are here." Namira sat upon her throne, at the end of the same stone slab. A small man, however, sat at the base of the dais this time. Around the two scurried the creatures of Namira's patronage, though some seemed to avoid the man._

 _"Yes, my lady. We have a guest?" She stepped forward, going half the distance from where she started to the throne._

 _The Daedric Prince nodded. "This is Tanthar. He is one of my servants. I'll be having him join you. He is in Riften. There is where you shall head, and there shall you create a new home for my coven."_

 _The man turned his head up to Trygga. He had a scar from the crown of his forehead down to his cheek. It passed through his eye, leaving his eyelid unusable, though the mangled eye was unclouded. He smiled, the scar twisting wildly with the smile. "Namira has told me about you. I would be honored to serve you."_

 _Trygga raised a brow. Namira had told the man about her? It could mean unsettling news, though she would trust her prince._

 _The man was dismissed with a wave of his hand, fading from the plane. "I tell all of the servants who I grant audience to about you, though, few are granted it."_

 _Trygga quirked her mouth in puzzlement, then calmed her features. "Why is that, my lady? Why tell them about me?"_

 _"Trygga, you may think of yourself as unimportant, but, I admire you. You are completely loyal to me and my followers. You are not even someone who would normally serve me! Instead, you serve me because I ask you to. It is refreshing. This is also why I have elevated you to be my handmaiden- You do not understand the significance of that, even, do you?" Namira chuckled. "That would be interesting, though..."_

 _"Yes, I serve because you ask. I've had no family for ages. I just wanted one, and you were it. And, no, I do not know, exactly, it. I have an idea, but it is very hazy." Trygga replied, shifting ncertainly._

 _Namira stood from her throne, stepping down and away from the darkness that surrounded it. As she came into the ambient light, her face was revealed. It was that of a beautiful woman, in her prime- But decay clung to it. She looked as if she had been a corpse for weeks, with pallid skin and rot showing on her cheeks, lips, and forehead. Otherwise, she was a beautiful woman. As she stepped closer, Trygga could smell the odor of decay on her, a dark, musty smell. "My handmaiden. You take audience in my realm with me, every night. You will be the one to summon me to Nirn. You are my chosen handmaiden, my servant. All who serve me will defer to you. Not because of the power I have given you, but the servitude that you have given me."_

 _Trygga had suppressed her urge to gasp at seeing her deity, but she did gasp at the realization that the Prince had told her than. "My- My lady! I don't deserve that. I... Why? I..." Trygga trailed off, head down, shoulders slumped._

 _"Trygga. You are confused. Do not be. I chose you for a reason. I know it will not inflate your ego, and I know that you will guide my coven well. I would have you vreate connections between all of my cults, across Tamriel." Namira stepped forth and placed a hand on her shoulder. It was cold, but the cold was pleasent. "Have confidence in yourself, Trygga. You will lead my worshippers to safety."_

 _Trygga nodded, still slumped. "I still don't feel as if you should gift this upon me. Eola would have been better for it. The Dark elf you sent me. The man you just had here. Any of them, I feel, would suit yo far better."_

 _Namira's grip on her shoulder tensed. "Stop that incessant nonsense. I'll not have it. Now, Trygga. I trust in you. When you get to Riften, speak with the man you saw here. He will find you a safe place. There, you may summon me."_

 _Trygga nodded, bringing her gaze up to her Prince. Namira was beautiful, even with the rot, and she took a brief second admiring her deity. Then, just as she began, she stopped, nodding. She did not wish to irk Namira by staring. "I will, my lady."_

 _"Go, then, my pet. Serve me well, as you always do." Namira's hand moved to her cheek, gently caressing her cheekbone. Trygga blushed faintly, turning into her patron's hand reflexively, her eyes closing slightly in enjoyment of the affection. Just as soon as the touch came, it was gone, and her spirit faded into unconsciousness, settling back into her body._


	4. Ch4, Chance's Folly

Chance's Folly

Trygga's awakening was calm, almost blissful, her conscousness returning from her audience with her deity in happiness. It would always be that way, as long as she was devoted to her deity.

"Shall we find something to eat again, then, Trygga?" Eola had woken before her, and had obviously noticed her wakefulness.

Trygga sat up and shook her head in amusement. "You are obsessed with your stomach, aren't you, Eola? It's the first thing on your mind." She leaned back, stretching, then snapped forward to gaze at her handmaiden. "Very well. We will find something to eat. Namira told me that we would be travelling to Riften. We will be meeting one of her worshippers there."

"Riften? It can't be all that fun to live there, but I guess it will be alright. At least we aren't restricted to eating the horrible fish that comes from there." Eola stood, picking up the robe she had used as a blanket and folding it up. "You want your robe back? Or may I pack it up and continue to use it?"

Trygga waved Eola off. "Keep it, for now. You can give it back to me when we have a warm place to sleep. Shall we get started, then?"

Trygga nodded. "Yes, let's." She stood, then smoothed down her robe from its rumpled state. She looked to the west, to where she knew Markarth City would lie. "I will miss our old temple. But I will not miss this hold. They say the Rift is a beautiful place."

Eola laughed. "That it is. Don't get all sappy, though. It's unbecoming of one of Namira's handmaidens."

Trygga smirked in amusement. "Maybe, but I haven't heard Namira disprove of it. So I'll still keep being girly."

Eola rolled her eyes, then started walking east. "Come on. It's a long way to Riften from Markarth Hold. And it's a chilly journey, too."

Trygga walked after her, jogging for a moment to catch up, then falling into step beside her.

They continued on a good distance, walking over hills and through the craggy passes that filled the rocky land of Markarth hold. The landscape could be considered beautiful, but not when one was trekking through it. The ground was rough, and Trygga, unathletic as she was, found it rough going. She was quietly gasping by the time they found themselves coming up to a wooden barricade that crossed one of the valleys of Markarth.

"Hello down there, pretty ladies! You look all fine dressed up in that garb, and us up here ain't seen a lady in about a month! How bout one of you come on in and show us a good time?" An illl-kept man was standing atop the barricade, probably on a ledge of some sort. He leered at them, staring them up and down as if they were livestock. His face hadnt been shaven in weeks, obviously, and his armor was covered in grime.

"And if we choose not to?" Eola's voice run out clearly in the small gulch. She stared defiantly at the man, aggrssively.

"Well then, now that's not so nice of you, now is it? See, me and the boys are all getting lonely." He pointed behind the two of them. "They're all hoping for you to be these nice, sweet girls, you see? And we wouldn't hurt a hair on your heads, now would we? Now you two just come quiet-like, now don't you?"

Eola glanced behind, Trygga's attention remaining on the man in front. Eola whispered softly. "There's three of them behind us. Are you sure that we can fight this? Or should we just run? There's surely more behind that barricade."

Trygga glanced to Eola. "I think we should fight this. There's not another route to Riften for another few hours travel. We are both competent mages."

Eola turned to the bandit, glaring at him with fire in her eyes. "We will not do as you ask. Open the barricade."

"Tch. Now why would I do something like that? Sic em, boys." He shook his head, leaping off of the barricade, two other brigands leaping off to join him.

"Namira, give me the will to fight through this." Trygga whispered under her breath. Her prayer done, she raised her hand, concentrating, then sent a wash of energy over the man standing to the leaders left, enraging him. She turned, concentrating again, and sent a similar spell, this one calming, to one of the opposing brigands.

Eola, for her part, had summoned a Fire Atronach, and was sending bolts of frost at the enemy leader. The Atronach had turned to face the foes advancing from the rear, and was pelting one of them with fireballs

"You witches! We'll have fun fucking you when we're done with you!" His attempt to charge faltered with the chilling bolts embedded in his armor, but he still could move up to Eola. Two of the bandits behind them were also advancing, while one was fending off the enraged bandit.

Trygga pulled her dagger from its sheath, glancing at the last remaining foe. He had a steel sword unsheathed, a formidable weapon against an unarmored foe. She held her dagger forward,its point ready for a stab.

He advanced, quiet, but with a determined look in his face. When he got in range, he sent a swift jab to her stomach that she jumped back from. He then swung at her shoulder, to which she stepped aside. He was abusing the reach of his weapon, and she knew it. Now she just had to catch him in a backswing.

She dodged another swing, this one lateral, aiming to chop off her head, then leaned in to nick him on his arm. She didn't need to go for the killing blow, not at the start of the fight. The steady cuts and nicks would wear him out, in time. She was just worried about her own endurance, being tired from walking for so long.

Another swing, another sidestep, another nick. The battle continued on. He was competent with his blade, but she was more practiced against fighting a foe with longer reach. While she didn't have the endurance to be able to last in a long fight, she had the agility to dodge his swings.

Then, she dodged too slowly, and his blade bit into her stomach. She coughed, gasped, then grabbed his arm. She wasn't really strong enough to hold him, but all she needed to do was keep him still while she jammed her knife into his neck. She let go of his arm as he let go of the sword, both hands going to his neck to futilely stem the tide of blood. Her own hands went to her stomach, pressing against her wound in an attempt to stem the flow of blood.

Trygga turned to Eola, who had, by now, finished off the bandit leader and was moving toward her. Trygga gave her handmaiden a wan smile before collapsing in a heap, her hands still pressed to her wound.

"Trygga!" Eola nearly shrieked, then rushed to her fallen companion, turning her over and inspecting her wound. "It's bad, but... Get your hands off of it, I need to bandage it."

Trygga moved her hands away, then felt Trygga pressing on the wound with some sort of cloth.

"I have to take your robe of to bandage this. Would you help?" Eola had undone her corsset and untied the draws on the front of her robe already, and was pulling her head up, to help her sit up.

Trygga sat forward, Eola quickly taking her robe and corset off and laying her back down. She wrapped some form of cloth around Trygga's waist, snugly fitting it around her body, then tying it off at the ends. "It's not perfect, but it will have to do. I'll get this place set up for us to stay here a bit. You'll need to rest for a while before we even think of travelling."

Trygga nodded, then sighed. "I had wished to avoid unnecessary delays, but created an even longer one. Silly me." She coughed in pain, then sat up, scooting over to the edge of the gulch to lean against it. "I'll wait here until you're done."

Eola nodded, then moved off.

Trygga gazed down at her wound, shaking her head and growling to herself. It was a stupid decision, not deciding just to flee and move on a different way. She knew she was tired, she shouldn't have even tried to fight it out. She shook her head.

"It's ready, Trygga. Up you come." Eola wrapped an arm under her shoulder and picked her up, steadying her walking while Eola moved with her.

Tryga nodded in thanks and followed Eola's lead, going through the barricades door. Inside was a fairly small camp, with a few beds underneath tents, a small firepit in the middle of the camp, and a small anvil to one side. There was a chest in the far corner, which Trygga pointed out to Eola. "We might check in that when we're rested. Most of it's probably stolen, but it's not as if we can find the original owners, if they're even alive anymore."

Eola laughed. "Sure, but your sense of morality is too funny. How does one keep something like that when in service to a Daedric Prince?"

Trygga smiled in amusement. "Loyalty. Almost every Daedra desires at least some of it, and it's very important to me." She hobbled over to one of the bedrolls with Eola's help, finally smiling at her handmaiden in thanks.

Trygga curled up on the bedroll, closing her eyes for sleep. She heard Eola saying something about food, but was lost in her dreams before her mind could process what was said.

* * *

 _Back into the shifting void she went, her Mistress still upon her throne. The void around her was still filled with the odd shrieks and chitters, and they still didn't faze her. She kneeled in front of her deity. "My Lady."_

 _Namira beckoned her to her dais. "Come, my pet." The Daedric Prince was cradling a slug in one hand, gently petting it with her other. Trygga could feel the gaze on her as she approached the dais. She knelt in front of her deity, her head bowed in reverence._

 _"Rise. You're allowed to look upon my face and stand beside me. You are my Handmaiden." Namira took her hand and pulled her up to stand before her. Trygga raised her head to gaze into the Daedric Prince's eyes. They were pure black pools, and they entranced her, snaring her into the Prince's gaze. She flicked her eyes downward, blushing at her stare._

 _"You were caught. It happens for most mortals who gaze on a Prince. Don't feel ashamed of it, or of looking upon me." The prince cupped her chin, raising her gaze again to look upon her. "I am your Prince. You are my Handmaiden. Do not turn from me."_

 _Trygga nodded quickly, her faint blush still gracing her cheeks. "My apologies, my lady." She was caught in the Prince's gaze again, not turning from it this time, but letting herself be caught by it._

 _"Good." Namira sat on her throne, gesturing Trygga to sit on the dais. When Trygga did, namira spoke again to her. "You were hurt, my pet. You were hurt because you chose poorly. I do not want you hurt." Her tone had grown hard as she spoke. "Do not do that again. Do not endanger your life for something as petty as getting somewhere sooner. Stay safe as you travel. You are my Handmaiden. I do not wish to lose you." Namira placed her hand on Trygga's arm, gently gripping._

 _Trygga nodded. "I shall not do so again, my lady." She bowed her head, cringing internally at what she had done. She had known it was a stupid idea after the fact, but now that her Prince had admonished her, it certainly drove the point home._

 _"Good. Don't do it again, or the next admonishment may bring more than a bruised ego." Namira's grip on her arm tightened, almost painfully. "I do not relish the thought of you in pain. Do not make me xperience that again."_

 _"Yes my lady." Trygga nodded quickly, gritting her teeth and internally berating herself for her actions earlier. She startled back to paying attention when Namira gently cuffed her shoulder._

 _"Stop it. Spend time with me, my Handmaiden." Namira moved her hand to rest atop Trygga's shoulder, her thumb slowly stroking Trygga's shoulder. "No one will take you from me. Not by blade, magic, or persuasion. You will always be my Handmaiden."_

 _Trygga blushed at the affirmation, then nodded. "Thank you, my lady." She leaned into the touch of the Prince, shivering slightly._

 _"Many times I have searched for someone to be my handmaiden, and many times have I searched for someone to summon me. You are the first. You are the only one. Or you better. be. It will be a long time searching before I can find another. I do not want to make that search." Namira's hand came to rest on her cheek, turning her head up to gaze at her Prince. "I do not take this lightly."_

 _Trygga nodded. "I do not take it lightly either, my lady. I do thank you for the gift you have given me." She pressed her cheek into Namira's hand, her faint blush still on her cheeks. The physical affection was new, from her Prince, and she quite enjoyed it._

 _"Good, my pet. As you will always serve me, I will not abandon you. Remember this." Namira stood, pulling her up to stand beside. The Prince gazed into her eyes, the pools seeming to swallow her mind, her thoughts drifting away as she looked int o Namira's eyes. She was brought back to reality when Namira moved to kiss her cheek, and she stiffened in surprise at the gesture. "You are special, Trygga. Don't let it go to your head, but you are."_

 _"My- My lady?" Trygga stared, wide-eyed, at Namira, halfway incredulous._

 _Namira smirked. "Go back to sleep, Trygga. You've been shocked enough for one night. It will take time for you to heal, and the longer your spirit is out of your body the longer it will take. Do not worry about it festering, I will prevent that from being a problem."_

 _Trygga nodded, her hand going to her cheek to touch where Namira's lips had touched her skin, her last thought that her Prince's lips were somewhat chill, but in an enjoyable way._


	5. Ch5, Enchanter's Primer

Enchanter's Primer

Trygga gasped herself to wakefulness, a burning pain in her gut reminding her vividly of the events the day before. She carefully sat up, undoing her robe and corset to examine the bandaged wound. She unravelled the bandages carefully, holding them up and examinging them. They were torn from one of her robes. Oh well, no matter now. They saved her life. She looked down at the wound, then gasped. It had gotten infected, somehow- But, Namira had said it wouldn't happen. She bit her lip, thinking on it, then shook her head. Her Prince worked in mysterious ways, and she wouldn't question her. She pulled another robe from her pack, tearing it into strips and wrapping it around her waist, creating a new bandage. If it continued to be infected, she could speak to Namira about it. Until then, she wouldn't worry about it.

Eola was already awake, looking further along the path that they were going to travel. She turned her head when Trygga began shifting, then spoke up. "The going further on will be easier. We can pack up these bandits bedrolls, one for each of us, and continue on from there. The Markarth Hold may be a wet place, but at least it isn't as cold as up north. You should be able to be dragged if we make a makeshift sling for you. I can do that."

Trygga struggled to her feet, her legs shaking, her stomach in pain, but she resolutely remained upright. "I'll walk, if I can." She gazed into Eola's eyes directly, challenging the handmaiden to deny her.

"You can't walk like this. You'll hurt yourself again. Don't push yourself beyond beyond your limit, Trygga. If you do- Just don't. You're important to all of us, Trygga. Don't push like this." Eola had turned toward her and was looking at her almost desperately.

Trygga paused, then spoke. "Alright. But I don't want to be dragged on a stratcher. Let me lean on you. I won't break open my wound that way."

Eola nodded, then moved over to the chest. "I refrained from opening it until you were awake. I'll go ahead and open it now." She wrapped her fist around the lock, frost tendrils wisping out of her hand as she channeled her magic. The sound of the lock cracking was faint, but Trygga managed to hear it. Eola pulled open the chest, looking inside. "It's mostly empty,but-" She pulled a dagger and a small pouch of coins from the chest. "There's this, and the money."

"May I see the dagger?" Trygga had more experience with Enchatments than Eola, and she usually could determine the nature of enchanted weapons upon examining them for a while.

She held it up in her hands after Eola had handed it to her. It was light, with some form of bone on the hilt. After pulling it from its plain sheath, she gasped. The power the blade emitted was intense. She quickly sheathed it, without bothering to check what the exact properties were, then looked to Eola. "It is very powerfully enchanted. I wouldn't want to investigate further without a table to ensure I don't make a mistake. Trying to manipulate it without the proper protection- Not the best idea, even for the best of enchanters. I'm just curious how they came across such a powerfully enchanted weapon. No common wanderer would wield a blade such as this, and the uncommon ones would have no problem with brigands such as these."

Eola shook her head. "I don't know. It doesn't make any sense. If someone could have a strong enough weapon to make you gasp in shock, then bandits like these shouldn't be in possession of it." She held her hand out for the weapon. "I can carry it, if you like. It might be safer for you."

Trygga nodded, reaching out and dropping the dagger into the outstretched palm of her handmaiden. "Normally I wouldn't want you carrying such a dangerous magical weapon, but- I was told by Namira that I should take more care in what I do."

"As well you should. You're the leader of her coven, and I do not relish the thought of losing you." Eola was gazing intently at her, some unseen though running behind her eyes. Trygga could infer what it was, though- Eola had always held an attraction to her, and later an attachment.

"Eola, should we start moving again?" She gestured down the path. She wasn't anxious for her handmaiden to entertain close thoughts of her any more than she already had. Her stance was clear, and she did not want her handmaiden to continue pursuing her.

Eola nodded. "Yes, it would probably be the best. Come here, lean on me. It will make walking easier." Eola held her arm out to Trygga, ready to support the injured woman.

Trygga wrapped her arm around the waist of the older woman, leaning into her handmaiden.

Their walk was mostly uneventful, through the gulch that the bandits were in. No more bandits, none of the trolls that occasionally showed their faces around the less frigid regions of Markarth Hold. For that, Trygga was glad. It meant her journey would be shorter.

She knew that they were coming upon the borders of the hold when the terrain levelled out into the more pleasant hills and plains of Falkreath Hold. Not nearly so craggy as that of Markarth, for which Trygga was very glad. Her wound was aching by now, and she didn't want to aggravate it more.

"We're in Falkreath Hold. We could probably stop by one of the villages here relatively safely." Trygga was aching to sleep in a real bed. She was tired of sleeping on the ground.

"Are you sure, Trygga? They could have sent a messenger to Falkreath, to warn them." Eola was still supporting Trygga, the handmaiden ensuring that the younger woman didn't stagger or fall.

Trygga nodded. "Yes, I am. I need to rest, anyway, with this wound. We should be able to stop by Falkreath, then Helgen. It will ease the journey." She looked to her friend. "Don't fight me on this. It will be safer to travel on the roads anyway. We shouldn't come across any bandits, at the very least."

Eola nodded in return. "I guess that makes sense. If we find a road then we can follow it to Falkreath. That should be a more comfortable journey for you, thankfully."

Trygga nodded. "My energy is flagging, though. We should stop for a moment, I need rest. We'll get to Falkreath tomorrow and sleep properly."

Eola nodded. "That sounds like a good idea, then, Trygga. Go on and sit down, I will make up the camp for you."

Trygga released her hold on her handmaiden, resting on the grass, leaning back. She gently pulled a flower from its stem, smiling at the bud and playing with it between her fingers.

'The bedrolls are in your bag, Trygga. You'll have to give them to me." Eola was crouched in front of her. "Oh, and you look absolutely silly like that."

Trygga startled out of her momentary obsession with the flower, then shrugged her pack off, holding it out to her handmaiden. "There."

While Eola readied the camp, Trygga undid her corset, planning on checking the wound again, to see how it fared. Hopefully it wasn't still infected. If it was, she would have to speak to her deity.

After undoing her bandages, her inspection turned negative. She was still infected. Her wound had gotten worse, even, the flesh around it darkening, rather than being reddened. It was inflamed. She would have to speak to Namira about it.

"Trygga, your bedroll is ready. I'll keep watch for a bit." She gestured to the ready bedroll.

Trygga nodded, crawling over to the bedroll and curling up on top of it. Her stomach ached from the long walk, and it twinged occasionally when she moved. Sleeping would only be possible because of how tired she was.

* * *

 _"Your wound is festering. I made it so, It will speed your healing process." The dark voice of her Deity filled her mind as soon as she entered the Scuttling Void, startling her momentarily, until she reoriented herself._

 _"Milady? How did you know" She looked up to her deity, gazing up to the dais that Namira had her throne placed on. The Mistress of Decay still sat upon her throne._

 _Namira beckoned. "Come. And, my pet- Do you honestly think that I do not understand my Handmaiden? I am your patron. " Namira stood from her throne, stepping down a step on her Dais,_

 _Trygga walked to the dais, stepping up to one step below Namira. Even being below her deity, it was obvious that Namira was taller than her, almost by a head. Trygga bowed her head in deference, then looked up to her deity."_

 _"I will protect you, with all that is in my power. I do not wish you harmed, my Handmaiden." Namira brought her hand to Trygga's cheek. "You will not fail me."_

 _Trygga nodded. "Yes, my lady." She wouldn't disappoint her deity, not if it was at all possible. She had been admonished already for her foolishness. She didn't relish the thought of it happening again. Her life in the coven was safe. She longed to return to the seclusion of a cave for her flock._

 _Namira nodded. "Good, my pet. You are faring well enough on your journey. You should reach Riften soon, and then I will join you on Nirn. You will not fail me." The Prince's voice filled the void, echoing faintly around the pair._

 _"Yes, my lady." Trygga bowed her head once again in deference to her Prince. She looked back up, into the deep, black pools that were the eyes of Namira. Her deity was beautiful, to her._

 _"Sleep now, my pet. You will have other times to join me in my plane, and soon I shall join you. Go, you must be ready for the morrow." Namira placed a hand over Trygga's eyes, and her soul returned to her body, in a dreamless sleep._


End file.
